


Stuff

by yeaka



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5027533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily’s weighed down; George helps her up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarahcakes613](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for bookhoor’s “maybe George can comfort Emily” prompt on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Murdoch Mysteries or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The morgue’s empty when George comes in, though the body he’s looking for is right where it’s expected, with its chest still held open and part of the skull chipped away. George doesn’t look at it a second longer than he needs to—it all makes him queasy. He goes down the ramp instead, turning the corner towards Emily’s desk. He doesn’t spot her until he’s all the way around, because she isn’t standing up or bent over papers like usual, but sitting on the floor itself, huddled against the wall. 

It’s a strange position to find anyone in, let alone a woman in expensive skirts, and he can see immediately that something’s wrong—she isn’t crying, but her eyes are slick like she might. Emily’s a mask of determined perfection most days, but her dark brows and pert lips and big eyes are greatly expressive when her guard’s down. George hesitates for half a second, wondering if he should leave her to privacy. Detective Murdoch wouldn’t mind if he did his canvassing before collecting the morgue report. 

But George cares for her too much, and even if he didn’t, he isn’t built that way—he can’t leave someone upset and alone. So he comes closer, asking on the way, “What’s wrong?”

She looks up at him, then rolls her eyes, not at him but whatever’s bothering her. When he reaches the wall, he settles down beside her, pulling his legs up to himself like hers are so he doesn’t take up all the space. They’re around the same size at the heart of it, him maybe a bit bigger but her skirts giving her extra volume. She tells him, “It’s nothing, George.”

“I’m an expert on misfortunate of late,” George admits, tilting his head, “and it’s obvious it’s _something_.” Emily’s lip twitches, the way it does when she’s admitting he’s right. Then she lets out a long, slow sigh.

Wrapping her arms beneath her knees, Emily looks away, and she mutters, “It’s just that it’s all so _hard_ sometimes.”

Emily makes everything look so easy. He asks, “What is?”

She looks back at him to answer, “All of it. You have no idea how hard everything is for me, and people like me. I have money, I have friends in high places—I come from a privileged life, but still I had to fight like a wild cat for the title of ‘doctor,’ and if it hadn’t been for Julia I probably never would’ve been hired, and there are still times when no one will listen to me just because I’m a woman. And that’s just in my job—no one ever listens in the real world over anything that matters, and when we do fight we’re painted as these monsters just for wanting the same thing you have, and I was handling all that. But then I have to go and find out one more way I’m different, and I try to be strong, and I always thought I was—I can take it, but every once in a while it’s all just too much at once, and I’m so _tired_ of having to fight so hard just to... just to be me. And I hate having to hide so much!”

She does sound exasperated after and stops just to breathe, looking wide-eyed at the floor. George watches her, feeling awkward and uncomfortable but wanting to help. When he opens his mouth, he finds he doesn’t have anything to say. He feels like he can relate, but he can’t _really_ , because none of his problems are just because of _who_ he his. The closest is when he wanted Emily but felt too poor and low, and now it doesn’t matter. So he just mumbles, “I’m sorry. It must be overwhelming.”

She lets out a bitter snort. “You have no idea.”

“I’ve always admired how brave you are, though.” Emily glances sideways at him with a wry smile, but George insists, “I mean it. You never seem to let anyone stop you. I’ve seen you glare down men I’ve been afraid to glance twice at.”

That does make her smile grow. He smiles back, contagious, and she shakes her head, noting, “Yet here I am, wallowing in the corner like a child.”

“Everyone does that sometimes,” George says, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ve even seen Detective Murdoch wallow.”

“You have not,” Emily laughs, though she’s been around for the bad times too. Some people, like Murdoch and Emily, just seem untouchable, at least to someone like George who gets knocked around almost as much as he can pull himself up.

“I did! Before he got Dr. Ogden, and when she married that other chap—he looked like he was dying inside. And then when they finally did get together, and he couldn’t marry a divorced woman and all those silly rules.”

Rolling her eyes again, Emily sighs, “The world can be so obtuse sometimes.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I just did.”

George blinks for a moment, confused, then clarifies, “Oh, no, it’s an expression I’ve just heard. You tell me something, and then I say ‘tell me about it,’ to show that I agree.”

Grinning wider, Emily chuckles, “You always find the oddest things, George.”

“Not how Detective Murdoch and Dr. Ogden do—you should hear the wild new inventions they talk about. And you, too. You know far more than I ever will.”

Emily nods her head to the side, like she’s thinking, but George takes it for more agreement. It’s never been something he minded. He learns something new from them every day, and finally, Emily murmurs, “We’re an odd lot, aren’t we. We have so many advantages and still so many problems.”

“That’s life,” George concedes.

“And then you die,” Emily adds.

“Well, that’s a little morbid, but true enough, I suppose,” George laughs, because only Emily—or perhaps Dr. Ogden—would tack that on.

Emily shrugs, her hands sliding out from under her knees to smooth down her skirt, and then her legs unfold so that her shoes stick out at the end: most improper. Like most of Emily. She admits, “The morbid is comforting, at least. It’s already happened. Perhaps I should find something to dissect to make me feel better.” Glancing sideways at him, she asks, perfectly cheerfully, “Are there any mice around the station, by any chance?”

“You want me to catch a poor mouse for you to take apart?” George repeats, stomach clenching. For anyone else, he’d say no straight away, but he can see she’s feeling better and wants to help. He’s still relieved when she just laughs and shakes her head. 

“Alright, I’ll just have to go and have a look at that victim. You came to hear about him, yes? I’m afraid I don’t have much of interest to say, although I wouldn’t mind distracting myself with some more tests. Do you want to come watch?”

George would like to do just about anything else, but for her sake, he nods. He gets up to his feet, brushing off the dust, and then he extends a hand to Emily and helps her up beside him. She heads right back to the body on her slab, and George picks a spot on the wall to stare at instead of Emily’s enthusiastic but quickly bloodied hands.


End file.
